


you had me at 'i need a haircut'

by itsahockeyplay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, hairdresser au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeyplay/pseuds/itsahockeyplay
Summary: The bell above the door jingles and Zhenya looks up before straightening from his slump, resisting the urge to smooth down his hair. The man entering is stocky, cheeks and nose red from the cold, lips pink. He looks around and pulls off his beanie. His thick, dark curls are a mess under it and Zhenya melts inside, just a little.





	you had me at 'i need a haircut'

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [ this](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/post/167102023694/barber-geno-who-cries-inside-each-time-sid-comes#notes) lovely post about barber!geno weeping at sid wanting to chop off his beautiful curls.
> 
> also just assume any time ovechkin and geno are talking to each other it's in russian. and why is ovechkin even in this?? who knows. and i just really enjoyed the visual of tanger being a hairdresser sitting around gossiping with his clients bc you know he has some great hair advice.

Zhenya is manning the front desk because Lana is on her lunch break and Ksenia is out of town. Sasha is sitting in the back doing god-knows-what and Tanger is busy styling and coloring Mrs. Zhang's hair, though mostly they're just gossiping.

Zhenya is the only one who does any real work around here.

The bell above the door jingles and Zhenya looks up before straightening from his slump, resisting the urge to smooth down his hair. The man entering is stocky, cheeks and nose red from the cold, lips pink. He looks around and pulls off his beanie. His thick, dark curls are a mess under it and Zhenya melts inside, just a little.

"Welcome!" Zhenya says, smiling. "How can I help?"

"Oh, um." He walks closer, stopping right in front of the counter and offering a small smile. His hazel eyes are gorgeous. Captivating. Enchanting? The point is, they're very pretty and so is he and Zhenya is underprepared for this.

He pulls out his phone and points the face at Zhenya, saying, "I need a haircut. I, uh, have a Groupon?"

"Perfect, can I see?" Zhenya says, holding out his hand.

He fumbles with his phone and places it in Zhenya's palm before clearing his throat. Zhenya didn't realize how pink he is from the cold before.

"What your name?" Zhenya says, pretending it's offhand and he isn't desperate to know the answer as he clicks 'Redeem' on the screen, handing the phone back.

"I'm Sidney," he says, pocketing the phone. "Sid."

"Sidney or Sid?" Zhenya teases, grinning.

Sidney-slash-Sid turns pinker, and Zhenya realizes he's  _ blushing _ . "Oh, it's — " He waves his hand. "Both are fine. Whichever."

"I'm call you Sid, then," Zhenya says, leaning forward and tilting his head a little. "I'm Geno."

Sid laughs a little, ducking his head. "Sure, sounds good. Nice to meet you, Geno." He runs a hand through his hair again and Zhenya's delight fades because Sid's here for a haircut; he's here to get those beautiful curls chopped off.

"Here for haircut, yes?"

"Yeah, it's been a while," Sid says, shaking his head a little. His curls follow the motion and Zhenya wants to hold Sid's face in his hands and ask him why he would do this. "As you can see, my hair's a mess."

_ I'm a mess _ , Zhenya thinks. He shrugs. "Looks good to me." For the first time since Ksenia left for her family vacation, he's glad she isn't here; she would probably disapprove of Zhenya's decision to flirt with a customer while simultaneously trying to turn away his business.

Sid blinks at him, ears reddening. "Oh, uh, thanks? But it's — it's really annoying to deal with. Day to day, y'know?"

"Is your hair," Zhenya says, shrugging before unfolding himself. "Come, I'll cut it."

Sid looks up at him, and he looks even better from this angle. "Wait, you're a hairdresser?"

"Man of many talents," Zhenya says with a smile. "Wait one second." He turns and walks to the back, into the supply closet, and hisses, "Sasha! Get your ass out here, we have a customer and I need to cut his hair."

Sasha's slumped over a box and he looks up from his phone, raising his eyebrow. "Get Tanger to cut his hair; he's just gossiping with Mrs. Zhang at this point. I'm busy, go away." He turns back to his phone, firing away a text. Or playing a game. It's hard to tell with Sasha because he approaches both with the same level of enthusiasm.

"I'm not asking, I'm telling you." Zhenya glances back at Sid, who's walked to the side and is staring at the posters they have up — adorable baby animals, which Zhenya put up; ridiculous makeup looks and annoying uplifting sayings, which Sasha put up; an alarming amount of artsy, French-captioned black-and-white posters, which Tanger put up; and Ksenia's kids and family, grinning proudly in various scenarios, always happy.

Sid huffs out a laugh at one of them and Zhenya turns back to Sasha only to find him a couple centimeters away, peering over Zhenya's shoulder.

" _ Fuck _ ," Zhenya says, glaring at him and shoving him away, willing his heart rate to go down. "Don't sneak up on me!"

Sasha grins at him, shark-like. "Ah. I see why." He claps Zhenya on the shoulder and pushes him, adding: "Never say I didn't do anything for you!"

"It's not like that!" Zhenya splutters at his retreating back even though it is, and then hurries to get to Sid before Sasha does because that isn't a meeting he wants to happen.

Sasha reaches Sid and sticks out his hand, saying, "Hello, mysterious customer, I am — "

"Unimportant," Zhenya cuts in in English, steering Sid by the shoulders to the seat furthest away from Sasha and his stupid face. He glances down and  _ wow _ , that's a really nice ass.

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart," Sasha coos. Zhenya flips him off behind his back, hoping Sid doesn't know any Russian.

"Um. Okay," Sid says when Zhenya plops him down onto the seat, staring at Zhenya in the mirror. "Should I ask?"

"He's annoying," Zhenya says, tilting Sid's head so it's straight, and then buries his hands in Sid's curls like he'd wanted to the moment he saw him walk in.

It's as glorious as he imagined.

"So, you want to cut? How much? What style?" he asks, trying to keep the frown off his face at having to shear the curls off. Maybe he can convince Sid to just get a little trim, style it a little.

"Just — all of them? I mean, I don't want to be  _ bald _ , but I wanna get rid of the curls," Sid says and Zhenya dies a little inside. "And in terms of styling — I don't know? Make it look okay is the only thing, really."

Zhenya removes his hands because it's probably been long enough for it to become weird. Sasha, who's been grinning madly the entire time, mouthing entirely inappropriate things, is absorbed with his phone again and Zhenya breathes easier, thankful for his short attention span.

And then  _ All I Want for Christmas Is You _  starts blaring over the speakers. Zhenya turns his head slowly to stare at Sasha, who's bopping along to the song.

"It's. November. Second," Zhenya says through gritted teeth.

"What?" Sasha yells, cupping his ear. "I can't hear you over the sound of my Christmas spirit."

"It's November 2nd," Zhenya yells back. "You're Russian, you don't even really celebrate Christmas!"

"I  _ love _  Christmas, what are you talking about? See, you never pay attention to what I say. And besides, you're not going to say anything to him, so let Mariah Carey say it for you. Her English is better than yours, anyway."

Zhenya mutters exactly what he thinks about Sasha's  _ hilarious _  ideas under his breath.

Sid's watching him with amusement. "You guys do a lot of yelling in Russian around here?"

"Only when Sasha's been annoying," Zhenya says. He raises his eyebrows. "So, yes. All the time."

Sid laughs full-body, eyes crinkling shut, and Zhenya's pretty sure an angel was just born somewhere. "He seems like a character."

"He doesn't have any, is problem."

Sid laughs again and Zhenya will probably live off the high of making him laugh that hard  _ twice _  for days.

_ 'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding onto me so tight _ , Mariah Carey sings in the background and Zhenya pats Sid's shoulder, resolutely  _ not _  thinking about holding onto Sid so tight. "Come, let's shampoo your hair."

Sid furrows his brow. "Shampoo?"

"Yes." Zhenya raises an eyebrow. "You never been to salon before?"

Sid smiles ruefully. "Yeah, I haven't, really. My sister got me this Groupon and told me to go." He shrugs. "I usually just go to the cheapest barber shop, honestly." He wrinkles his nose. "Tried cutting my own hair once, but I realized really quickly I should never try doing that again." And the rueful smile is back. "Shouldn't have underestimated how hard your job is, I guess. Just karma for my arrogance."

"I think universe forgive you," Zhenya says, ruffling his curls again because he really has no impulse control. "Bless you with gorgeous hair." He pauses. "You sure you want to cut?"

Sid stares at him for a moment before answering. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Sorry."

"Is okay," Zhenya sighs, and he really doesn't have to try too hard to act disappointed. "Guess I have to take your money."

Sid smiles at him, all crinkly-eyed again. "Sorry 'bout that."

Zhenya grins and they stare at each other for a moment before Zhenya forces himself to twirl Sid around and pat his thigh — which is  _ wide _ , dear god — and say, "Come, need to get started or I'll get fired."

"Washing his hair, Zhenya?" Sasha says, leaning against the desk on his elbows, facing them instead of the front of the salon. "How romantic. Moving quickly, yes?"

"It's literally a part of the job description, dumbass," Zhenya shoots back. "You probably never read yours because you're a lazy bastard, so I understand the confusion."

Sasha clutches his chest. "You  _ wound _  me, Zhenya. Moving onto a pretty young thing so quickly? Forgetting about me so fast?"

Zhenya pushes Sid into the chair and tilts his head back, murmuring, "Relax," before glaring at Sasha. "We dated for a day before I came to my senses. There's nothing  _ to _  forget."

Tanger, who's been a passive spectator the whole time, pauses in his conversation with Mrs. Zhang and says, "Will you two shut up, please? There are other people in here trying to have a conversation."

"Yes, Sasha," Zhenya says in English, tilting his head toward Tanger, testing the temperature of the water to make sure it isn't too hot or too cold before wetting Sid's hair. "Listen to Tanger. First time he say anything useful."

"I'd respond to that," Tanger sniffs, "but I don't think highly enough of you to engage."

"Is okay to admit I'm right, Tanger," Zhenya says, offering him a shit-eating grin he knows will rile Tanger up.

Tanger glares at him, scoffing. "Don't flatter yourself,  _ Malkin _ . You've never been right in your  _ life _ . Probably don't even know what the word means."

"Ooh,  _ burn _ ," Zhenya says in an American accent, voice flat. "So clever. Can see your French movies help you so much."

"Well, you know what — "

"Shh, Tanger, with customer," Zhenya says because it's too easy. He can see Sid suppressing a smile. "Doesn't want to hear you insulting me. So unprofessional."

Tanger splutters and Zhenya ignores his tirade in French. Instead, he squirts shampoo into his hand and gently starts massaging it into Sid's hair, cradling his head in his hands

Sid sighs a little and sinks down, eyes closing, pushing into his hands, and Zhenya deserves a medal for not reacting even a little bit.

"Feel good?" Okay, so maybe he reacts a little.

Sid blinks up at him and his gorgeous, hazel eyes look so different in this lighting. He averts his eyes, saying, "Yeah. Sorry."

"Not be sorry," Zhenya says, "is good. What I want."

Sid snaps his eyes back to Zhenya's face. "You want me to feel good?"

Zhenya's mouth goes dry. He pretends he's absolutely absorbed by washing shampoo out of Sid's hair when he says, "Yes." He glances down when he hears Sid's sharp breath and Sid's staring back at him, eyes wide.

Zhenya squeezes Sid's hair a little to get rid of excess moisture before turning around and grabbing a towel, nudging Sid up and patting his hair dry. That...had probably been very inappropriate. Zhenya should really calm down.

He runs his thumb down Sid's neck before removing the towel, feeling the way Sid twitches.

He tugs Sid up and Sid stumbles a little, catching himself right before he runs into Zhenya's chest — disappointing — and righting himself, breathing out, "Sorry."

"Is okay," Zhenya says roughly, their faces only centimeters apart. It reminds him of the situation earlier with Sasha, except this is much, much preferable.

"Kiss him!" Sasha crows. "Look at his face. He wants you to."

Zhenya glares at him again, the moment broken, before tugging Sid across and shoving him back into his seat.

"What does he keep saying?" Sid asks.

"Nothing important," Zhenya says, shaking his head, reaching around Sid to put on the poncho. Sid's hair smells  _ so good _ . "Trust me. You seem too smart to understand dumb things he say."

"And how do you know I'm smart, eh?"

"Come to this shop, no?" Zhenya says, grinning as he runs his hand through Sid's wet curls.

"And you only get smart customers?"

"Yes," Zhenya says, nodding as he grabs his comb. He frowns when he tugs a little at Sid's curls. "Except you want to cut — maybe not so smart."

"My sister stole my gel the last time she was in town and forbid me from buying anymore, so it's either get my hair cut to make it manageable or deal with her annoying chirping." Sid raises an eyebrow. "Guess which one I'm choosing."

"Chirp?" Zhenya says as he studies Sid in the mirror, deciding how he wants to do this, his eyes lingering at Sid's cheekbones, lips, jaw. He adds, "So sweet, care about sister."

"Ah, sorry," Sid says, trying to jerk his head, but Zhenya holds him still. He sees Sid swallow. "It's a hockey thing. And yeah, she makes it hard not to care about her."

"Hockey?" Zhenya asks, lighting up. He wants to ask more about Sid's sister but hockey always, always takes priority. "You play?"

"I'm Canadian," he says, voice dry, "pretty sure I'd be kicked out if I hadn't at least tried. I played a little when I was younger. You?

"Same — played when I was young, little bit," Zhenya says, which is an understatement but probably enough for now. "You Canadian? Why in New York?"

"Work," Sid says. "Could ask you the same — why're you in New York? You're from Russia, yeah?"

"See, you smart — guess correctly," Zhenya says. "Yes, from Russia. Come all the way here for work, too." He pauses, busying himself with combing Sid's hair. "And because America better for people like me," he adds softly, not daring to meet Sid's eyes.

There's silence. "People like you?"

Zhenya nods, heart beating fast, holding his hands as still as possible. "Yes. Gay."

"You're  _ gay _ ? You really don't seem gay," Sid says, incredulous, and Zhenya hunches into himself. "Oh my god, wait, I didn't mean it that way. Obviously, gay men can — can be whoever or whatever or — "

Zhenya takes pity and smiles, meeting his eyes and saying, "Yes, gay. Am hairdresser, no?"

Sid's eyes widen. "No, that's  _ not _  — I don't stereotype, of course not all hairdressers are — "

"Was joke, Sid," Zhenyas says gently, making a face as he cuts off the first of Sid's hair, watching it fall to the ground as a funeral dirge plays in his head.

Sid sighs, shutting his eyes. "Right, okay." He licks his lips. "I don't — I don't want you to think I'm homophobic, or anything." He takes a breath. "I'm. I'm gay, too."

Zhenya snaps his gaze to Sid, who's looking an endearing combination of embarrassed and determined. He has to stop himself from showing his surprise in the same way Sid did. "Really?"

Sid huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, I am. So. You know. I was just surprised. Not bigoted."

Zhenya smiles, turning back to Sid's hair. "You have no excuse to be cutting hair, then. Gay people supposed to be fashionable, no?"

"I'm all about breaking through stereotypes and setting trends," Sid says.

Zhenya gives him a look. "Yes, you seem the type."

Sid laughs. "Are you trying to insult me?"

Zhenya gasps. "Never!" He looks at Sid. "You have to give me tip at the end of this, no?'

Sid licks his lips, glancing at him then away. "Yeah, guess I do."

Zhenya definitely has some ideas for what that tip could be.

He cuts Sid's hair, going as slowly as possible, wincing internally with each snip of the scissors. He learns Sid's a sports therapist, has a dog, loves desserts, and loves New York. Zhenya tells Sid about his parents, how he started working for Ksenia five years ago, when he decided to be a hairdresser. He tells him about his cat and dog and how much he absolutely hates the summer.

"Oh, me too," Sid says, "because everything would melt and — "

"No ice to play hockey, yes," Zhenya finishes for him, beaming. He adds a little flourish before tucking his scissors into his apron.

Sasha's left for the day by the time Zhenya's done and Tanger's at the front now, Lana having left due to an emergency. Zhenya brushes the last of the hair off Sid's shoulders and removes the poncho.

He runs his hands through Sid's hair again. He really doesn't have an excuse. "So? How you like?" The curls will always, always be the best, but Sid still looks good. Which isn't really surprising.

"It's great, thank you," Sid says after inspecting himself in the mirror.

"Next time, I teach you how to manage curls and you don't cut them."

"Many have tried before you," Sid says, "and they've all failed."

"Well, I'm best," Zhenya says, shrugging as if it's a given. "So I can do."

Sid's still grinning. "Guess we'll just have to see."

"Yes, we will," Zhenya says, and they stare at each other until Tanger clears his throat.

"Are you done? Because it's closing and I have a wife to get home to."

Zhenya scowls at him and shoos him away. "You go. I'll take care."

Sid hops up. "Oh, god, I didn't mean to keep you. I'm so sorry," he says, all earnest tone and beseeching eyes. Zhenya has to try really, really hard to stop himself from pulling him in and kissing him.

"No, no, you not keeping me." Zhenya walks to the front, Sid in tow. He dawdles as Sid pulls his coat on. Tanger pushes through the door, tossing out, "Bye! See you tomorrow," over his shoulder, and then it's just him and Sid.

"So, thank you," Sid says, looking at his feet. He brings out his wallet and pulls out a couple of bills, thrusting them toward Zhenya. "You did a great job." He meets Zhenya's eyes. "You're good at what you do."

Zhenya takes the bills, their fingers brushing, and it's  _ ridiculous _  how giddy Zhenya feels at that. "You very good at staying still. Did half the work."

Sid rubs the back of his neck, breathing out a laugh. "Yeah, I believe that."

Zhenya wants to tug him close, bury his hands in Sid's hair, ask him to dinner. Instead, he says: "Well."

Neither of them know what to say next.

Sid clears his throat. "Uh, I should let you get home." He jerks a thumb at the door. "I've got a long day at work tomorrow, anyway." He's clutching his beanie in both hands.

Zhenya nods. "Of course." He lets his tongue poke out of the corner of his mouth as he says, "When people say 'You look so good' be sure to tell them where you got your haircut, yes?"

Sid ducks his head, laughing. "Will do." He starts walking backward. He gives a little wave. "Bye, Geno. It was great meeting you." He turns around and shoves the door open.

Zhenya's about to lament his cowardice when Sid turns back around.

"Hey," he says, "do you want to play hockey?"

Zhenya blinks at him. "What you mean?"

"There's — we have a beer league, down here. Me and a few others. We'd love to have you."

Zhenya breathes out because the thought of playing hockey again, with others, is exhilarating. And with Sid there? "I — okay." He nods frantically. "Yes, want that."

Sid beams at him. "Great! I'll just need your email address. Or number. Whichever you prefer."

"Number," Zhenya says and he searches for a pen before flipping his business card and writing his cell number on it. He walks up to Sid and hands it to him. "Thank you, Sid."

Sid's pink again. "Hope to see you soon, Geno," he says, and he walks out the door.

Zhenya watches him fade into the crowd of people and when he's sure Sid can't see him anymore, he lets out a loud laugh, shutting the lights and packing up, pulling on his coat and flipping the sign to 'Closed,' humming the whole time.

It isn't a date, but at least he'll get to play hockey and see Sid again.

  


**Author's Note:**

> assume there were christmas love songs playing in the background the entire time bc why not??? anyway thanks for reading and come join me on [tumblr](https://itsahockeyplay.tumblr.com/) if you want.
> 
> so what's probably gonna happen next: they play hockey and do their hockey-bonding thing; neither of them actually asks the other out; geno gets drunk and complains about it to ovi; sid gets drunk and complains to flower; sid keeps on "giving rides" to friends who need a haircut and then just "sticking around" and comes in every month like clockwork to get his own hair cut; they dance around each other and pine from afar; both of them want to say something but [insert one of a billion bullshit reasons]; they slowly fall in love; they take out their dogs for play-dates; they go to the zoo where geno is in love with the animals and sid is in love with geno; they go to museums where sid is in his element and geno doesn’t remember any of what he saw except the way sid looks talking about it; etc. etc. and eventually it's been a year and geno's laughing so hard he can't speak as he's trying to tell a joke and they're sitting together at a park bench eating ice cream and sid's just like 'wow fuck it' and just pulls geno in and kisses him and geno accidentally drops his ice cream onto sid's coat and sid pulls back and complains and geno's like 'hey i can kiss you to stop talking now i should do that' and anyway they love each other and it's great. who's gonna write this, though


End file.
